


Am I a part of the cure?

by Analinea



Series: Song fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Hospital, Hurt Sheriff, Song fic, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stays at his father's bedside after he's injured, and asks him to come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Am I a part of the cure?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Clocks by Coldplay (I just closed my eyes and randomly clicked on a song haha) ; story inspired by Unsteady by xAmbassador

“You have to-”, Stiles started, but his voice caught on the last word and he had to clear his throat in a desperate attempt to clear the emotion out of it. “You have to hold on. For me. Please?” he finished on a whisper, hands clasped tightly in front of his face like a prayer.

In the hospital bed, the Sheriff lay unmoving. The machines beeped and drove Stiles slowly crazy, even as they reassured him that his father was still alive. The fact that the mechanic parody of breathing wasn't heard anymore -the ventilator had been taken away a few hours before- was a good sign in itself according to the doctors, but Stiles was still afraid that this was the better before it got worse.

He closed his eyes, the water blurring his vision threatening to spill out of them -he should have been out of tears by now- and tried to chase the bloody images from behind his eyelids.

Running towards the sounds of the ambulances, towards the street where the accident happened, towards the voices of the deputies coming from the police scanner in his Jeep. He vaguely recalled someone grabbing him at the waist to stop him, struggling against the hold until he couldn't even stand on his legs by himself.

It had been human, totally human. Not even hunters. Just...just some guy on the phone running a red light as the Sheriff crossed the street. He was going home. He was off duty, and gone to pick up Stiles' favorites from the grocery store as an apology for not being at home at all in the last week.

For some reason it was the detail the most engraved in the teen's mind. The road, his father's blood drying on the asphalt, and snacks littered on the ground. He'll never be able to look at those brands again in his life without feeling like his world is crumbling down.

 

Stiles blearily looked up from where his head laid, next to his father's unmoving hand. He only noticed he fell asleep by the crick in his neck and the way the light pouring in the room changed from bright to a dim yellow glow on the wall opposite the window.

It was he door opening that woke him up, and as he blinked sleep away, vision fuzzy and mind foggy, he saw a woman with dark curly hair. He straightened up.

“Mo– ,” he started before his mind got back on line and reality caught up with him. “Melissa,” he corrected himself. Not quickly enough, he could see it in the tight smile she offered him, even if she didn't say anything about the mistake.

She started talking, but they both knew Stiles was not listening. It was just a way to soothe him, so he let the words wash over him like a clear stream.

The problem was that this time it didn't really work. Stiles sighed. It was probably because of how bone tired he was, even after sleeping most of the day off. The anxiety didn't let him really rest. He wished his mom could be here with him, holding his hand, giving him hope for John. Surely, he would be able to sleep properly with her next to him.

But he stopped believing wishes could come true when no matter how many dandelions and shooting stars he begged, his mother never got better.

Since then, his only religion was that no one was listening, no one cared, and you just ended up losing the people you loved whatever you tried to keep them with you. From the moment he got up from where he fell on his knees in front of her freshly covered grave, he never looked up at the night sky or down at the ground covered in feathery flowers again, gaze firmly set in front of him.

He was not strong enough to do this again, he thought. To hold a cold hand as a parent took their last breath. To go to a funeral that doesn't mean anything, doesn't bring any comfort, especially now that there would be no family left after, just the harsh reality of being an orphan to keep him company.

 

Melissa gave Stiles a pointed look that made him lay down on the cot that the nurses brought him a few days ago, so he could try to sleep or at least fake it well enough to pacify her.

Even Melissa gave up on trying to get him to go home. It wasn't only that he was afraid to leave his dad's side for a single second -memories of his father's guilt at leaving Claudia the night she died clear as if it happened the day before-, he even tried to go home to shower and change, eat something else than hospital food. But the house felt...just like that. A house, not a home. Not without his father in it, not without the certainty that his father would step foot inside again.

So Melissa asked the Pack to bring fresh clothes and food that didn't come from the vending machine. He caught their worried looks, each morning and every night when they visited. Worried for the Sheriff, worried for him. Ready to take care of Stiles if...

He just...he was tired. When he started crying silently, Melissa was there to hold him through it. He thought about how lucky he was to have her. She was not his mom, but she was damn close to it. She was the only one keeping him afloat.

Because he felt as if the floor underneath him swayed like a boat, ready to swallow him whole in a dark, endless pit. She was the string keeping him from falling, the only thing connecting him to a world that was slowly coming apart.

 

_If you love me, don't let go._

 

Stiles made a detour, on his way back to the hospital. It was the second time he was forced to go home at least for a decent shower.

He stopped in front of the cemetery gates for a few seconds, before pushing it and walking up the path towards his mother's grave. Miraculously, the flowers were still where he put them during his last visit.

The teen sat down in front of the cold gray stone and ran a hand on his tired face. “I know, I-,” he started before needing to get his feelings back under control. His hands were shaking.

“Mom, I know you're probably very alone, wherever you are. I, um...I know how sick of it you must be, because it hasn't been that long and I already...it's too hard. I'm sorry that you have to be on your own, bu- but _please_. If you can do anything, anything at all, just-”

He wanted to ask her to save his dad but he couldn't get the words out. The thought of asking her and still losing his father was terrifying, he didn't want to resent her for something out of anyone's control. This was worse than anything that happened in the last years, worse than the Darach because at least he could _do something_ back then, to try and get his father back. Now he could only sit and wait.

Once he calmed down a little, he got up, dusted his jeans. “I'd understand, if you took him to be with you, mom,” he whispered, “but let him stay with me a little longer. _Please_.”

Stiles closed his eyes briefly before turning back to head to his car. He needed to see his dad, it was like an itch under his skin. The only thing keeping him from driving too fast was the memory of blood on the road, the squeezing of his heart at the idea of being the one to take a loved one away from their family.

He nearly ran from the parking lot to the room, though, only letting out a shaking breath once he was sitting next to the bed.

Now that he talked to his mom, he had something to say to his dad as well. He cleared his throat, realizing it would be easier to speak to his alive but unconscious father than to the grave of his dead mother.

“Um, dad, I– I...,” he started, hesitating before starting over, “I bet you're dreaming about her, right now. Maybe you're even really seeing her, and I imagine that the only thing you'd want would be to go with her. She was,” he stopped for a second to breathe deeply and dry his cheeks, new tears running down on it, “she was the love of your life and I'm just– I'm just the kid you got stuck with, so hard to raise he even probably drove his mom crazy, exhausted her to the point where she just...”

He stopped himself before he let all that pain out. It wasn't the point, not right now.

“I bet she's holding out her hand for you to take and dance with her,” Stiles chuckled with the memories, “like she did when she put on her favorite songs. I bet you just want to take it and go with her. Fly away. If I'm...,” his voice cracked again, but he quickly started again because he needed to say this.

“I want to be selfless enough to tell you that it's okay to go with her. But I also want to be enough for you to come back to. J- Just stay with me? Please?”

It was all he was able to get out before he broke down, the last words already tearing their way out of his throat painfully. He didn't know how much time passed before he finally stopped crying, minutes or hours. All he knew was the weight in his heart before he fell asleep with his head next to his dad's hand, exhausted.

 

_Hold on to me._

 

Stiles sleep was a black void, dreamless. But then, he though he heard a voice. “You still got me,” it whispered. As he woke up, the words echoed, and he felt a hand on his shoulder, on his head, and he thought there was a woman singing next to him. He couldn't tell if she was a dream or not. What was real though, were the open eyes of his father, his soft smile, and the bone deep relief Stiles felt that washed away all the pain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it enough to give kudos and leave comments, I'll write a happy happy epilogue :3


End file.
